


college kids

by princessoftheworlds



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Bucky Barnes, Awesome Peggy Carter, Awkward Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Demiromantic Bucky Barnes, F/M, Halloween, Harry Potter References, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Polyamory Negotiations, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: SHIELD University student Steve Rogers is thrilled when despite his awkwardness, he scores a date with the gorgeous Peggy Carter, briefly a model from his art class. What Steve doesn't anticipate is how his best friend and roommate Bucky won't share his enthusiasm. As Steve's relationship with Peggy continues and she becomes his official girlfriend, Bucky only further distances himself from Steve. Steve is torn. On one side is the wonderful Peggy that he's only further falling for; on the other side is Bucky, the constant in his life for years. It doesn't help that for the longest time he was in unrequited love with Bucky and has only just moved on. Will Steve choose Peggy, will Steve choose Bucky, or will Steve somehow not be forced to choose at all?





	college kids

**Author's Note:**

> To the lovely Morgan. Thank you for bidding and donating for Marvel Trumps Hate.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta/cheerleader [Jaune-Chat](https://jaune-chat.tumblr.com/) and most finally, my lovely and amazing friend A.

“Class, we will be continuing last week’s theme of sketching a variety of models. Although I have not announced any details yet, I would like to remind you that your mid-semester project will revolve around these sketches, so please do not hold back any of your talent. Today’s model shall be Peggy Carter, a third-year student returning from a year aboard. Peggy, do you have anything to wish to add before we begin?”

Steve allows Erskine’s voice, authoritative but hushed and still tinged with the faded accent that points to his Germanic upbringing, to wash over him as he rummages through his messy backpack for his sketchbook and a pencil. He sighs; his bag is crammed full with a few textbooks and a binder or two, and all his pencils and pens seem to have shifted towards the bottom. Finally, he retrieves one, scraping his hand against the edges of his binders, and brandishes it triumphantly. When he eventually focuses his attention on Erskine and today’s model, his jaw drops. 

For some at SHIELD University, being surrounded by pretty, attractive people - most people on campus, unfortunately - must not even cause them to blink. Unfortunately for Steve’s awkward, bisexual AF, and insecure ass - he’s short, skinny, and only nearly stopped dying of pneumonia every winter after getting new meds in high school - that is not the case. Imagine his surprise and frustration - for many reasons, when his best friend Bucky Neville Longbottomed from a gangly boy with braces to finally growing into George Barnes’ handsome features and Winnie’s dimpled chin. Even, Nat - a former ballerina with a torn ACL who Bucky met at PT last year - looks like she walked off a magazine catalog. 

And today’s model, Peggy Carter, is a prime example. She’s drop-dead gorgeous with expressive dark eyes, hair that falls around her carved features in waves that reminds Steve distinctly of a model from a pin-up, and bold red lips to match the red of her dress. Then her eyes meet Steve’s as he observes her, and he drops his pencil to the floor with a quiet  _ clack _ , cheeks flaming.

Quickly, Steve picks up his pencil and sets it to paper.

Peggy’s voice when she replies to Erskine is crisp, commanding, and British. “I think not, Professor. I would, however, like to say that I look forward to seeing who captures me best.” She directs her clever smile towards Steve who immediately straightens up and ducks his head.

“Good.” Erskine claps his hands together. “Let’s begin then, class.”

Peggy takes her place on the pedestal in the center of the classroom, sitting on the stool with her spine straight and an unsmiling expression. She looks incredibly sober, like she wouldn’t be out of place in a series of presidential portraits.

Steve moves quickly, pencil flying across his paper as he rushes to capture certain features. The humorous sparkle to her eyes he spotted briefly when she smiled at him. The slight curve to her lips. Her fingers tapping a quick beat again her wrist. Before he knows it, the professor is calling time, and he scowls down at his sketch, displeased. His lines aren’t exactly straight, and Peggy’s nose doesn’t really look like that.

Peggy sets across traversing the classroom, studying his classmates’ sketches, while Erskine answers questions at his desk. When she finally arrives at Steve, she takes his sketchbook in her hands and glances down at it, quiet for a moment. Finally, she smiles kindly, tracing his sketch with her finger. “I believe that yours is currently my favorite,” she tells him.

Steve gapes at her briefly, mouth open and closing wordlessly like a fish, before he coughs awkwardly. “Really?”

Peggy smoothly tucks a spare curl behind her ear. “I admire your use of shading here. It really adds depth to my features.” Behind her, Erskine claps his hands, motioning for the class to gather back together, and she shoots a glance at the professor. “Alas, it seems that this session is near an end. I hope to sneak a peek at your sketchbook again, Steve.”

It's less than a five-minute exchange, but Steve cannot stop flushing, wondering how the stunning Peggy knew his name. It's only when he moves to pack up his station that he realizes that it's engraved on the front of his sketchbook.  _ Idiot, _ he thinks and only flushes more brightly.

He’s putting his things away in his backpack, engrossed in going over his work for this week - it’s only the second week of the semester and he already has two papers due soon, when a loud remarks break him out of his reverie. 

“What’s your number, Queen Victoria?” Gilmore Hodge, a brutish classmate Steve already despises, asks as he steps up to Peggy. “I wanna take you out tonight.” He smirks, and a feeling of disgust washes over Steve. “Tomorrow, you’ll be posing in my bed.” With his last creepy remark, he makes a move as to grab Peggy’s ass, and Steve steps forward to intervene, the red flush on his cheeks now a result of his anger.

Peggy, however, doesn’t need his defending; she is more than capable enough on her own as she latches onto Hodge’s wrist, twists it, and punches him squarely in the face so hard that he stumbles back a few steps. Shaking her wrist out, she smiles serenely at Hodge who straightens up, eyes wide, and snarls at Peggy. “I believe that is your answer, Mr. Hodge. Hopefully, next time you make to grab another woman without her consent, you will remember the sensation of my fist in your face.”

“You bitch,” Hodge hisses. Although Peggy’s hit missed his nose, there seems to be a nice bruise forming on his cheek. “You can’t get away with punching a student.”

“I’m afraid, Mr. Hodge,” Erskine says as he steps forward, arms crossed, “that Ms. Carter can, as it was all self-defense. I believe that SHIELD has a zero-tolerance sexual harassment or assault policy, and with a faculty member, Ms. Carter herself, and Mr. Rogers over there as witnesses, it would be easy to file a report against you instead.”

Hodge scowls and tightens his grasp on his backpack before storming out of the classroom. 

“Don’t you have a class to get to, Mr. Rogers?” Erskine asks, directing a gentle smile towards Steve, and Steve abruptly realizes that he’s been standing and staring at the commotion for more than a few minutes. 

“I don’t, Professor,” Steve responds, sliding on his backpack out of habit. He then checks his phone screen and blanches. “Oh, shit!” He turns back to his professor. “You did help remind me that I’m now running late for work.” As he exits the classroom, he catches a glimpse of Peggy who waves at him, tucking another lock of hair behind her ear.

Although it’s technically still late summer, the weather is cool outside, and a stray breeze blows Steve’s hair in his face as he walks at a steady but not too vigorous pace to work, determined not to trigger his asthma. He pulls his jacket sleeves over his fists and continues onwards, lost in the memory of Peggy Carter punching Hodge in the face. He won’t stop blushing.

He’s pretty sure he’s in love.

* * *

Peggy never returns to Steve’s art class sessions; no model does, seeing how they’re usually hired on a one-class basis. Instead, Hodge is conspicuously absent for the rest of the week - Steve starts to suspect that he dropped the class, and their models are instead a handsome princely man named T’Challa, a loud Irishman named Dum Dum that Steve takes an easy liking to, and a short, fast-talking brunette named Angie.

Only two weeks later, however, he runs into Peggy in the main campus square. He’s idly wandering through in the hour-long break he has between classes, thermos in hand. One of the perks of working at the campus-owned SHIELD Cafe means that he constantly has access to free coffee. He takes a sip as he walks, gaze travelling over the tables for the different student-led groups and organizations when it lands on one called SHIELD Feminists. And seated behind the table, next to a girl with strawberry-blonde hair that Steve recognizes as Pepper from his political science class, is Peggy, hands resting on a clipboard.

“Hey,” Steve says as he walks over, “I didn’t know that SHIELD had a feminist group. I would have signed up the first day.”

She glances up, and recognition spreads through her expression like water rippling outward from a tossed stone. “Steve! Lovely to see you.” Gesturing to her clipboard, she shakes her head. “SHIELD didn’t have a feminist group until this year. Pepper here and I are founding members. Would you like to donate to our fledgling organization?”

Pepper too looks up from reading the names on her own clipboard. “Oh, hey!” Although her gaze is slightly confused, like she’s trying hard to recognize Steve from somewhere, her smile is kind and polite. Her eyebrows furrow. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“We’re in the same poli sci class,” Steve tells her. Turning to Peggy, he smiles, trying not to let his knees quiver when she smiles back. “Even better, I’d like to join your fledgling organization.”

“Oh,” Pepper says, snapping her fingers. Then a faint blush darkens her skin. “I’m so sorry. That was rude of me.” She smiles. “Anyways, we’d love for you to join.”

“Nah.” Steve waves her off. “It’s a big class; I don’t blame you.” He turns to Peggy. “Where do I sign?”

“Here,” Peggy says, handing him the clipboard and a pen. “You’ll be our sixth member.”

“Do I get any benefits?” Steve teases, scribbling his signature out in a straight but messy script. He then adds his phone number and email.

“We offer free coffee and donuts at the meetings,” Pepper offers. “Extra if you bring a friend.”

“I’ll bring along my roommate,” says Steve. He checks his watch and is bewildered to find that he’s only got ten minutes before his next class, which is all the way across campus. “Oh, shit. I gotta go.” He smiles at Peggy. “See you around.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Peggy says in her crisp accent. “Would you like to have dinner with me one night?”

He stumbles back, taken aback. “Um,” he stutters. “I would love that. Do you want my number?”

Lifting the clipboard, she points to his name. “I got it right here. I’ll text you tonight. Bye.”

“Bye,” Steve says as he shuffles slowly away, giddiness rising in him.

He’s pretty sure he has a date, and he had no idea how this is happening to him.

* * *

“Hey, Stevie!” Bucky calls from the kitchen counter where he’s sitting and reading a textbook as Steve unlocks the door and enters their apartment. He’s currently shirtless and armless on his left side, the scars from his accident faded and silvery against his tan skin but on full display; his sleek prosthetic is plugged into a socket and laying on the couch, charging. “How was your day?”

“Great,” Steve says, dropping his backpack on a chair and settling his textbooks and laptop on the table besides Bucky’s shit. He can’t stop smiling, and Bucky hasn’t noticed so far.

Finally, his best friend glances up, hand going to rub the skin around the metal cap that covers his stump, and his eyebrows rise in surprise. “That’s a new expression for you,” he notes. “You aren’t scowling.”

Steve sighs. “You’re such a fucking asshole, jerk.”

“If that’s what’s on my birth certificate,” Bucky quips in reply. He shuts his textbook and rests his arm on it, leaning forward. “No, really. What happened? Why are you smiling?”

Rolling his eyes, Steve resumes smiling. He feels like he’s basically quivering with excitement, despite Peggy only promising him that she’ll text him for dinner. “I have a date!”

If Steve weren’t ridiculously oblivious or just wasn’t even looking down as he unties his Doc Martens, he would have seen Bucky’s smile dim and face close off. Or even noticed the way his best friend goes quiet. When Steve finally glances back up, he finds that Bucky has resumed studying and is confused why he hasn’t reacted.

Finally, after a moment of terse silence - which Steve can’t read for what it is, Bucky says, “That’s great, Stevie.” He pauses. “With who?” His voice is tight and strained.

“Peggy Carter,” Steve replies, washing his hands and pulling out supplies from the refrigerator to make himself a sandwich. “She was a model in my art class last week, and then today, I ran into her in the plaza. She started a feminist club with a girl from my poli sci class, and I signed us both up. We’re gonna go whenever they have a meeting.” He arranges a slice of turkey on the bread, reaching for the vegan mayo; it’s not his fault he loves dairy-based products but is lactose-intolerant. “She said she’d text me tonight about getting dinner one day.” He places the second slice of bread over his vegan cheese and squishes his sandwich together. “Do you want me to make you one?”

“I already ate,” replies Bucky offhandedly, waving Steve off as he stares at the grain of their table, deep in thought. “But thanks.”

“Alright,” Steve says as he sits across from Bucky and lifts his sandwich, biting into it. In between bites, he studies his best friend, the sharp arches of the cheekbones Steve loves to secretly sketch, the cloud of dark hair that Bucky’s got secured in a stubby ponytail. When he finally polishes the sandwich off, he dusts his hands off for crumbs and carries his plate to the sink. Looks like they’re going to have to do the dishes soon. “Oh,” he adds, remembering suddenly. “I was gonna ask Sam and Clint to have dinner with us tonight.”

“I thought you had a date,” Bucky counters, almost bitterly, not that Steve notices.

Shaking his head, Steve washes his hands. “No, Peggy said she’d text me tonight to schedule it. So what do you say? Wanna order a pizza?”

Suddenly, Bucky stands up, his chair screeching backwards across the tile. “Nah. I have a lot of homework. You meet with them.” He wraps his hand across the textbook and awkwardly maneuvers his way from the table; Steve almost offers to help, but he knows how much Bucky dislikes that. “Later.” He lumbers away to his room.

“Later,” Steve replies, staring at where Bucky was sitting, bewildered.

* * *

After what seems like hours of waiting, Peggy’s text finally comes.

_ Hello, Steve! Would you like to meet for dinner tomorrow night at Martinelli’s? Around 8pm, perhaps? _

It takes Steve less than two seconds to type  _ Yes! _ Then he pauses and reconsiders his response, editing it to  _ Yes, that would be lovely. See you then _ . Finally, he sends the text.

So he  _ does _ have a date, he realizes as he stands and stretches his legs, having been hunched over his desk for the past two hours, pretending to read his poli sci textbook when he was actually just vibrating with anticipation. His lips stretch into a broad smile until his mouth nearly hurts; he’s so  _ damn excited and happy _ that he just needs to tell someone, but Bucky seemed a bit closed-off earlier.  _ Maybe he’s just having an off day _ , Steve muses, deciding not to bother him.

Instead, he settles for telling his friends - really just Sam, Clint, and Nat - tomorrow after the date has occurred. He doesn’t want to go in with really high expectations and just blow it, no matter how gorgeous Peggy is or how much admires her for punching Hodge.

Steve waits the twenty-four painful hours, unable to concentrate on any of his lectures to the point where the only notes he’s taking are sentence fragments from the occasional times that he feels he needs to appear diligent. Finally, the evening nears the next day, and with an hour and a half before his date, he stands in front of his closet, bewildered.

Now, he’s quite regretful that Bucky’s not around, because he’s the sharpest dresser Steve knows and would have immediately paired together the best combination of clothes for a date with a pretty girl. Sadly, Steve’s checked - several times, and Bucky’s not in the apartment, probably just finishing up a lab for his electrical engineering class. Instead, it’s up to Steve to slowly pull out a white v-neck with a grey flannel and a light hoodie for if it gets cooler in the evening. He pulls on his least ripped or paint-splattered jeans and slips his feet in his combat boots. After smoothing out his hair, he grabs his wallet and heads out the door, treading down the brief path to Martinelli’s.

Peggy’s restaurant choice is on the east side of campus and not too far from Steve and Bucky’s apartment; Steve is there with five minutes to spare, enough time to prep himself for how not to awkward Peggy out. To his surprise, however, Peggy herself approaches not even two minutes later.

She too is dressed casually - through over the few times Steve’s seen her, he’s learned that her causal is more like an elegant semi-formal - in a white blouse with red slacks, red heels, her hair swept back in a ponytail, and her signature red lipstick.

“You look really nice,” Steve tells her, immediately hitting himself over the head for the unimaginative compliment. At least he’s not tripping over his words this time.

“Thank you, Steve,” Peggy replies gratefully. “You look…” She peers at him then hesitates, seemingly lost for words.

Steve bristles, his usual feelings of inadequacy and bitterness rising up in him, but he keeps his calm. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions about Peggy, but he’s just now realizing that they’ve only spoken for about ten minutes total and that he doesn’t really know her. “What,” he quips. “T-shirt and jeans nothing to write home about?”

This garners a startled laugh out of Peggy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” Steve loves how the words sound in her accent and in her voice. A faint blush rises on her cheeks. “I hope you don’t think this as odd, but you’re actually quite handsome, and I was struck speechless for a moment.” She laughs, seemingly flustered. “I’m usually able to keep my calm around attractive people.”

_ Did she call him attractive? _ Eyes widening slightly, Steve isn’t initially sure that he’s heard Peggy right, but the intent behind her words and the emotion on her face seems genuine. He blushes furiously, something he does frequently around Peggy. “Thank you,” he stutters. “You’re so gorgeous that I’ve been doing that too. The only difference is that I’m usually not able to keep  _ my _ calm around attractive people.”

She laughs again, a lovely sound like brassy bells, before leaning into to press her lips to his cheek briefly. “You really are wonderful, Steve,” she tells him before stepping ahead of him into the restaurant.

Steve is left standing there for a minute, stunned. He lifts his hand to his cheek; he can still feel the warm imprint of Peggy’s lips against his skin. Then quickly, he turns on his feet and follows her inside. 

The hostess waiting at the stand is already deep in conversation with Peggy; they seem to be acquainted. Standing besides Peggy, Steve squints at her, trying to place her but a few moments later recognizes her as Angie, the model from his art class.

“You must be Steve. I recognize you from Erskine's art class,” Angie says with much enthusiasm when her eyes land on him. “English here refused to tell me about you. You know you’re her first date in over a year and a half?”

“Angie!” Peggy admonishes quickly, her features morphing into an expression of agitation before smoothing out.

“Love you too, English,” Angie replies gleefully. “Follow me.” She grabs a stack of menus and strides into the seating area.

“I am so, so sorry about that,” Peggy says, turning to Steve as they begin to follow Angie. “You’ve just met Angie, my best friend. Her family owns the restaurant. We met our freshmen year here.”

Steve laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I know how best friends can be; I’ve had mine for almost twenty years now.” He tries not to let his humorous mood flicker over the fact that Bucky seems to be avoiding him recently.

Eyebrows lifting in surprise, Peggy laughs. “Wow, I can’t even imagine that.” She halts as Angie leads them to a table in a nice, secluded corner of the restaurant, unusually crowded for a weekday evening in a college town.

“Here’s your table,” Angie says, turning to face them after she stacks two menus on the tables. “Someone will be by in a bit to take your order.”

“I hope that’ll be someone else,” Peggy quips, her tone humorous though her features are dead-serious, but when Angie mock-glares at her, the other girl smiles. 

Steve muffles his laugh.

“Have a nice date!” Angie tells them with an over-dramatic wink before flouncing off back towards the front of the restaurant.

“She can be a bit much at times,” Peggy admits as they take their seats, “but she’s a darling, and I love her.” After they’ve taken long glances at the menu, she asks, “Do you know what you would want to order?”

“I dunno,” Steve tells her. “Everything looks really good.”

Quite soon, a server comes by to take their order, and then, Steve and Peggy are left to chat. 

Peggy tells him about growing up in London and then moving to Virginia when she was ten. She’d started to develop an American accent - and Steve can’t imagine that when she admits it, but she’s recently come back from a year abroad in the UK, which only strengthened the Britishness in her accent.

“How different was everything?” a curious Steve asks. He’s never been out of the country, never been able to afford it despite his many jobs, but he’s always wanted to travel to his mother’s native country of Ireland. “Going back, I mean?”

“Not too different,” Peggy says as she takes a sip of water. “I spent a long time there, and coming here as a schoolgirl, I had to adjust. It felt a little like slipping back into some old clothes, comfortable but a little tight. Of course, there were little things. I would speak to a classmate and realize I was using American slang. The weather’s much sunnier here, so I was glad to come back to that.”

“That sounds really cool,” Steve says. 

When he begins to narrate his stories of Brooklyn and growing up and playing with Bucky, Peggy finds it quite interesting how often Steve was getting into fights.

“Basically,” Steve explains, “in Buck’s words, I had to fight everything and anything unjust in this world.”

“That’s a noble thought, Steve,” Peggy says, “but I’m afraid that it might be physically impossible to fight everything. You might have to come with some other way to invoke societal change.”

“That’s what Bucky said too,” Steve replies with a laugh. “That’s why I’m thinking of majoring in poli science. Maybe try to do some good in the world.” 

Peggy levels him with an assessing glance. “If everyone had your willingness to stand up for what’s right, maybe this world would be a better place.”

He blushes brightly and ducks his head. “Thank you.”

Finally, their food arrives, set down on the table before them, and Steve digs in immediately, grabbing his fork to twirl a wad of pasta, mindful of the little drifts of heat wafting up from the plate.

They talk some more as they eat, discussing their classes and SHIELD and their plans for the future. Before Steve knows it, their plates are empty and their stomachs full. “Do you want to order dessert?” Steve asks, hoping to prolong the date.

Peggy shakes her head mournfully. “I wish,” she explains. “The desserts here are very good, as is your company.” Steve begins to blush brightly again. “However, I am too full to eat anymore, no matter how much I wish to.”

“I understand,” Steve replies with a slight chuckle.

Eventually, after the table is cleared, they rise and pay the bill - conveniently, already split in half, presumably by Angie - at the front of the restaurant. Angie herself however is nowhere to be seen.

Outside the restaurant, the evening night is cool, the air causing Peggy’s skin to prickle up into goosebumps, and Steve’s grateful for his flannel and hoodie, which he offers to Peggy as she rubs her upper arms.

“Oh, thank you,” she tells Steve, “but it’s alright. It’s a bit of a walk to my apartment and will warm me up soon enough.”

He nods and rocks on the balls of his feet, hands tucked in his pockets, not sure what to say next. Luckily, Peggy does.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she says with an untroubled smile. “You make for a wonderful conversation partner.”

“Thank you for inviting me out,” Steve replies, fidgeting with his fingers. He’s proud that he’s able to meet her clever gaze. “It does take two to tango.” He shuts his mouth immediately, ashamed of saying something so lame. 

“You really have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” she says, but her words have not the slightest bit of malintention. 

“I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with one,” he jokes in return. “Women aren’t exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on. No, really. I’m this awkward around everyone I find attractive.”

The corners of Peggy’s scarlet lips tug up in a sly smile. “I hope this doesn’t complicate things for you then,” she tells him. Then she leans in and presses the softest of kisses to Steve’s mouth. She steps away. Before he can properly react, she’s backing away into the darkness. “I’ll text you soon,” she promises before the shadows cover her.

All poor Steve can do is stand there, stunned by not displeased, fingers raised to touch his mouth and feel the warmth her lips imprinted against his.

* * *

When Steve finally unlocks the apartment door and slips through, Bucky’s seated at the kitchen counter, posed over another one of his textbooks. His hair is knotted loosely in a bun, and his prosthetic is attached. “Hey,” he says to Steve. “Sorry for not being around for the last few days. I had a big engineering project.” He seems to finally notice how Steve’s nearly radiating with happiness. “Where were you?”

“Peggy kissed me,” Steve blurts out, unable to resist telling someone any longer.

Bucky’s hands fall down loosely by his sides. “Oh.” He bites his lip, hesitating. “So you were on your date then.” It’s not phrased like a question, but Steve still nods in reply. “How was it? Where’d you go?”

“We went to Martinelli’s,” Steve explains, toeing off his boots. “And it was wonderful. Peggy’s smart, funny, and throws a wicked right hook.” When Bucky looks bewildered, he quickly rushes on. “Not me. She didn’t punch me. That’s how we met. She was a model in Erskine’s class, and she punched Hodge right in the nose when he tried to grab her ass. It was awesome.”

“That’s uh…” Bucky’s eyes narrow as he searches for a word. “That’s really nice, Steve. I’m happy for you. Are you going to go on a second date?”

Steve freezes from where he was hanging his jacket on the coat rack, jerked out of his dreamy haze. He panics.  _ Had Peggy said that they were going to have a second date?  _ Every interaction they had after dinner had seemed positive, but now he’s doubting it. Before he starts spiraling, Peggy’s words from right after the kiss come back to him.  _ I’ll text you soon _ , she had said. 

He relaxes, shoulders visibly slumping in relief. Bucky’s watching him in curiosity, so he turns to tell his best friend, “Yeah. I think so.”

“That’s great,” Bucky replies, tucking a lock of hair escaping from his bun behind his ear. He reaches to flip a page in his textbook. He smiles genuinely at Steve, his handsome features lighting up.

“I gotta go do homework,” Steve says, pointing back towards his room. “Later.”

“Good luck,” Bucky calls after him.

* * *

Luckily for Steve’s fraying nerves as a day passes after his date with Peggy, she does text him soon enough. Steve’s phone buzzes while he’s practicing sketching out a profile of Sam based on a recent picture, and he reaches to turn it over, fumbling with it as soon as he reads the notification on the glowing screen.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he says as he finally gets a good enough grasp on it to enter his password, frantically scanning Peggy’s message.

_ Sorry for the delay _ , it reads, _ but I really had a wonderful time _ .

He types back in record time, hoping to catch her while she’s still on her phone.  _ It’s alright. I’m glad to hear that. I was afraid that my awkward fluster had driven you off _ .

To his immense surprise, her response arrives only moments later.  _ No, you could never. Besides, I find your fluster quite adorable and charming. It is very genuine. I like that. _

_ Thanks! _ he types back. No one’s ever told him that they found his awkwardness cute before.  _ How about that second date _ ?

When he only sees the continuous typing bubble for a moment, he panics, afraid he’s scared her off. Relief comes less than two minutes later when his phone buzzes again.

_ I am afraid that this week I am quite swamped in homework and papers. How would you feel about the weekend? I am available both Saturday and Sunday. _

His fingers literally fly over his phone’s keyboard.  _ I have work on Saturday morning, but I would be free around the afternoon...Do you wanna go bowling? _

_ That sounds interesting _ , she responds. _ And that time and day works for me. _

_ It’s a date _ !

* * *

Two weeks go by before Steve knows it, and he and Peggy have been on their second, third, and - all the way to their - fourth dates. He thinks that they’re no longer casually dating, and Peggy confirms this when he asks one day when they’re watching TV on her couch in the apartment she shares a girl named Dottie.

“I thought that was fairly obvious that our number of dates wasn’t going to slow down any day soon,” she teases him, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. They’ve only kissed a few times since their first date, but they show affection to each other in their own ways with cheek kisses and hugs.

“Alright,” Steve replies, diverting his attention from Peggy’s laptop screen to focus fully on her. “I guess it’s time to meet each other’s friends.”

Peggy hums considerately. “Well,” she finally says. “You’ve already met Angie. I suppose that you can meet Howard, Jarvis, and Daniel. Shall we try to arrange a nice dinner? Or rather, shall we do individual meet-and-greets?”

He chuckles. “I think individual would work better. Natasha will probably want to interview you and glean every fact of your life.” 

“I think,” Peggy replies with a clever little smile, “that I can respect that. I would do the same in her circumstances. I actually done so, for Daniel’s girlfriend Violet.”

A shiver runs down Steve’s spine at the thought of the two strongest-willed women he knows meeting face-to-face. The things they could get up to as friends… “That’s great,” he says, voice a bit strained. “Please spare me when you guys become friends and decide to take over the world.”

“I’ll consider it,” she says, brushing some stray curls behind her ear. “Now, who else should I expect?”

“Sam, Clint, and Bucky,” he tells her. “They shouldn’t be as tough as Nat.”  _ Though, who knows how Bucky will react…. _

“Good.” She settles back against the couch.

There’s still one last thing to tell her, and it’s been eating away at him for the last week. He’s hoping that it won’t be an issue - it’s 2019, folks, - but if it will be for her, he needs to know now so he can stop wasting his time.

“Steve?” Peggy asks, elegant features contorting in concern. “Are you alright? You look a bit panicked.”

“I’m fine.” Steve waves her off, deciding to just go for it. “I’m bi,” he blurts.

“Hmm.” It seems like Peggy’s returned her attention to the laptop screen, but at him speaking again, she turns to face him. 

“I’m bisexual,” he repeats, hackles rising a bit.

Looking pensive, she nods. “Alright.” She pauses. “That’s great. I’m glad you thought I was someone you could tell.”

He relaxes. “Okay...so that’s not going to be an issue?” He considers his words deliberately. “For you, I mean? Because bisexuality is not a problem, and it shouldn’t be for anyone.”

Peggy laughs, setting her hands on his shoulders and leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “I don’t care who you want to consensually kiss as long as that group includes me.”

“It does.”

She smiles brightly. “Then we’re good.”

And that’s all it takes.

* * *

  
  


Steve doesn’t know how to bring up meeting Peggy with Bucky, so he chooses to ask Sam, Clint, and Nat first instead.

They meet weekly for lunch in the dining halls on Wednesdays, and when Bucky is caught up in a tutoring session - his part-time job, Steve takes it as a sign, dropping his backpack to the ground and tucking it under the table, as he slides his plate onto the table. 

  
“Rogers,” Clint says, nodding at Steve as he takes a seat. 

“Clint,” Steve replies. “How’s your day going?” He reaches for his fork, stabbing a bit of the pasta on his plate and swallowing. It’s a bit bland, but for college dining hall food, it’s not bad, though nothing’s ever going to beat the pasta from his first date with Peggy.

“It’s been alright,” Clint says, lifting his plate of pizza to take a bite before setting the pizza down. “I have to go to office hours for a class after this.” He gestures a bit and accidentally tilts the plate, the pizza sliding onto the floor. “Aww, pizza, no.” Clint’s face becomes dismayed immediately. Hastily, he grabs a napkin to pick up the pizza and drops it onto the plate, shoving the plate away.

Thankfully, this happens nearly every week, and as Natasha strolls towards the table, her own plate in hand, her gaze flickers towards the new pizza-stain on the carpet, and she shakes her head. “Oh, Barton.” She takes a seat, nudging Steve to move over on the bench, and hands a new plate with a fresh slice of pizza to Clint. 

Steve chuckles. Nat and Clint are an odd pair - her a graceful but scary former ballerina and him a walking human disaster, but they are well-synched together.

Sam is the last to arrive to the table, precariously carrying a glass of soda and another plate of pizza. Pizza and pasta, the basic staples of college dining halls.

“What’s going on?” he asks with the same type of easy-going charisma that Steve sometimes envies him and Bucky for. “What I’d miss?”

“Nothing,” Steve tells him. “Clint dropped his pizza again.”

“Barton, man,” Sam groans. “One of these days, I’m going to have to place a bet on you.”

Steve sights. “Alright. Now that we’re all here together-”

“Barnes isn’t here,” Sam notes with a slight smirk. “Which I’m incredibly grateful for.” He and Bucky has some kind of strange antagonistic friendship. 

“I’ll talk to Buck later,” Steve shoots back. “Anyways, you guys know how I’ve been casually dating Peggy, right?”

“Do we ever,” Nat says, smiling wickedly. “When are we going to meet her?”

Steve gulps. “Yeah, about that...it’s getting more serious, so we want to meet each other’s friends. When are you guys free?”

Clint, having wolfed down the slice of pizza Nat brought him, hums considerately. “I feel like I have a project due on Friday, but I’ll double-check.”

Nat rolls her eyes. “Saturday or Sunday would work best for us. His project is due on Thursday.”

“Oh, shit.” Clint’s eyes widened.

“You finished it yesterday,” she reminds him.

Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “I’ll let her know.”

All that’s left now is to talk to Bucky.

* * *

The conversation with Bucky goes pretty easily, to Steve’s surprise. He approaches Bucky after dinner in their apartment a few days later.

“Hey, Buck,” he says and then pauses for a goddamn awkward minute, unsure what to say.

Bucky must sense his hesitation, because he turns around from where’s he’s washing dishes. “Cat got your tongue, Stevie?” he teases.

“Peggy wants to meet my friends,” Steve blurts out, unable to bear it any longer. A moment stretches by. “That means you.”

Bucky seems to take Steve’s sudden announcement pretty well. He justs nods. “Okay.”

“That’s it?” Steve asks, taken aback. Although Bucky’s been pretty on board with him dating Peggy for the last week, Steve still can’t forget his initial reaction and just wants to be sure.

Sighing, Bucky nods again. “Look,” he says, turning away from Steve and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I know I reacted badly when you originally told me about Peggy.” He briefly pauses, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry. But I was stressed.” He hesitates again. “And a bit jealous.” 

“Oh.” Steve blinks. He didn’t really think that Bucky would be jealous of him - seeing how he used to date a new girl every week in high school while Steve was wildly insecure and had no game, but now that could make sense. After his accident, Bucky’s self-confidence took a dip while his insecurity rose, and well, he hasn’t exactly been hooking up with or dating anyone ever since. “I’m sorry,” he tells his best friend. “All of this must be such a slap in the face.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, waving him off, but Steve thinks he sees a shadow of sadness in Bucky’s expression. 

Steve nods. “Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that we’re - Sam, Nat, Clint, Peg, and I - all having lunch together this Saturday. Are you free?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, smiling. “I’m free, punk.”

* * *

Saturday comes hurtling towards Steve, and before he knows it, he finds himself seated at his favorite pizzeria that serves vegan pies, Peggy besides him and Nat on the other side. Bucky, Sam, and Clint are scattered across the other side of the table.

“So,” Steve begins. “Everyone, this is Peggy.” Peggy nods at his friends. “Peggy, this is Sam,” Steve says, pointing to each of his named friends, “Clint, Nat, and finally Bucky.”

“I’ve been wondering,” Bucky begins quickly. “How does the nickname Peggy come from Margaret?” He smiles wickedly, and Steve shivers; he’s nearly forgotten how damn handsome Bucky can be. “Or does it come from somewhere else?”

“I do not know what you’re implying,” Peggy says, though her smile indicates that she knows exactly what Bucky is implying. “Where does Bucky come from? It doesn’t seem a natural derivative from James.”

“Touche,” Bucky replies. He leers at Peggy briefly, sizing her up, and Steve groans. He doesn’t see how this can go well.

Then Peggy breaks into a bright smile. “I can see why you and Steve get along so well,” she tells him, and Bucky blinks in surprise, breaking into his own smile.

“What the fuck just happened?” a bewildered Clint whispers to Steve. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers back in confusion. “I was hoping that they wouldn’t hate each other, but it’s even worse than I thought...They like each other.” Steve doesn’t know what to do about that, but he can figure it out. 

Peggy and Bucky are seemingly done conversing, so Peggy turns to Nat. “You must be Natasha,” she says. “Steve assured me that we would become fast friends.”

“Oh, fuck,” Clint stage-whispers to Steve again. “There’s two of them.”

“This is definitely not going how you expected,” Sam chimes in.

Steve groans again. 

* * *

Only a few days later, Steve meets Peggy’s friends when Peggy hosts dinner at her apartment - Dottie staying over with her girlfriend, and he likes to think it goes well. Angie, who Steve’s already acquainted me, makes him laugh beyond control. Steve does however meet Howard, a fast-talking engineer who’s about to graduate two years early. He distinctly reminds Steve of his and Bucky’s high school friend Tony; he even thinks they might be vaguely related.

Then there’s Jarvis, who’s somehow even more British than Peggy. Daniel is clever and witty. His girlfriend Violet is petite with dainty features, but the first thing she does when she’s introduced to Steve is launch into a bloody and gruesome tale she experienced as a med student. 

“So,” Peggy begins at they clean up the dishes on the dining table, carrying them over to the dishwasher. “You liked my friends, I’m assuming?”

Steve nods, chuckling. “Howard would get along well with Bucky.” He laughs again. “Almost as well as you and Bucky.”

Peggy smiles. “He’s quite unique, your friend Bucky. Quite protective of you, also.”

“Well,” Steve says without glancing up, still clearing up the table. “Your friends become like that when you nearly die of pneumonia a couple times as a child or are always getting in fights.”

“Ah,” Peggy replies, placing a stack of plates in the dishwasher. “That explains much.” She turns the faucet on briefly. “Thank you for helping me clean up.”

Steve smiles, coming around the table. “It’s just common manners,” he says, rising on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Peggy’s mouth. 

Peggy laughs before pulling him closer, slinging her arms around his waist as they embrace closely. “Let’s finish the dishes and straighten everything else. Then we can sit and watch something on Netflix.” She leans down to kiss Steve a little more deeply.

He staggers back a bit, dazed, when she releases him, still tasting the chocolate from dessert on her lips. “Alright.” He blinks. “Let’s clean the rest.”

* * *

On their seventh official date - though at this point, they’ve kinda stopped counting - and their one-month anniversary, Steve and Peggy decide to go to the campus fair, put on to signal the approach of autumn. The fair is really just a little marketplace for handmade goods with a small pumpkin patch and beautifully spooky Halloween decorations, even though Halloween is a good month away. 

When Steve remarks upon this, Peggy, clad in orange trousers and a white blouse, nudges him. “Compared to when corporate stores put out Halloween decorations,” she says, “I think it’s appropriate to sell decorations now.”

“Fine,” Steve grumbles. 

As they stroll arm-in-arm, taking curious peeks at each stall, Peggy seems a little stiff and uneasy, and she keeps taking peeks at Steve. He can sense her hesitating, and finally, she turns to face him.

“Steve,” she says, and then she hesitates briefly again. “Has there ever been anything between you and your friend Bucky?”

Steve stops still in his tracks. “ _ What _ ?” he asks faintly, though he can’t hear himself over the sudden buzzing that had started in his brain. “No. No.” His protests are almost useless as he struggles to wrap his mind around what Peggy is asking. “Me and Bucky? No, never.” He laughs weakly. “No.”  _ You really sound sure _ , a cruel part of his mind nags. “Why would you ask?”

Peggy takes his hand, intermingling their fingers, and slowly pulls him through the throng until they reach the outer fringes of the fair before guiding them towards a little bench between a tree rapidly shedding its leaves. They take a seat on the bench, and Peggy once again turns to face him. Her expression is patient, kind, and genuine. “To be truthful, darling,” she begins slowly, and the dread steadily wrapping itself around Steve’s weak heart and chest drains any of the butterflies he usually feels at hearing her posh accent pronounce the pet name, “when you aren’t looking, Bucky stares at you with stars in his eyes. Like you hung the moon. He looks at you like he’s in love with you.”

Steve’s heart thuds once in shock. Then again. “No,” he says in denial before repeating it more empathetically. “ _ No. _ Are you sure?” Peggy nods, and Steve rakes a careless hand through his hair, mucking up the careful style Bucky had helped him gel it into.  _ Bucky. _ “No,” Steve mutters again, searching as far back into his memories as he can. Bucky hasn’t ever looked at him differently; he’s looked at Steve the way Bucky’s always looked at Steve. “Someone would have told me. Bucky would have told me.”

Peggy laughs quietly. “Love doesn’t work that way, Steve. It’s not very generous or forthcoming. He may not have felt that he could tell you.”

“But,” Steve protests before a thought occurs to him. He snaps back to Peggy. “Why would you tell me this? Shouldn’t you be wary if someone else is in love with your boyfriend?”

“One,” Peggy replies, counting down on her fingers, “we have been dating for one month. You and Bucky have known each other since you were children. I like you, but I think your relationship with him - friendship or more - would take precedence.” She pauses. “Two, you aren’t very observant, Steve. I thought it was fair for you to know.” 

“Thank you,” Steve says, and to his surprise, he means it. He sighs. “I’m sorry this date’s been ruined, but I think I have to talk to some people now.”

Peggy smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Take your time, darling. We can reschedule our date.”

* * *

After what seems an agonizing eternity of Steve hammering at the door, Sam finally yanks it open. “Hey, man,” he says tiredly, rubbing his eyes. He’s wrapped entirely in his blanket, and there’s a bag of chips tucked under his arm. “Maybe text next time you wanna drop by. I was in the middle of watching-” Then he pauses and squints at Steve. “Wait. Didn’t you have your date with Peggy today?”   
  


A man on a mission, Steve doesn’t waste time answering Sam’s question besides a brief nod. Instead, he storms inside and takes a seat on the couch that Sam had been presumably lying on - his laptop is placed neatly on one of the seat cushions - while Sam locks the door. Once Sam has turned to face him, Steve hurriedly asks, “Did you know?”

“Did I know what?” Sam echoes, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself and plopping down into an armchair opposing Steve. 

“That Bucky is in love with me.”

Sam, who had been going through the motions of reaching towards his chip bag again, still immediately. He turns to Steve, deadly serious. “Who told you?” He hesitates. “Because I know Barnes wouldn’t.”

“Peggy did,” Steve replies offhandedly. He focuses his attention entirely on Sam. “So you knew.”

Nodding, Sam leans back and frowns. “We all do. Me, Nat, and Clint. Bucky never told us. We only know because he doesn’t know the meaning of subtle.” Sam hesitates. “Not that the poor guy can help it.”

“Yet I never noticed,” Steve says, forlorn. 

Sam’s frown only becomes more pronounced. “Because Bucky did his best to hide it.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Steve cries, dragging a heavy hand over his face. He sighs, unable to stop finding with the zipper on his jacket.

“Man, don’t ask me,” Sam shoots back, gaze bewildered. “How should I know? I’ve never been in love. I’m sure his reason for not telling you seemed perfectly logical in his mind.”

“Fuck,” whispers Steve, bowing his head.  _ How fucking ironic _ . It had been Bucky going through puberty that made Steve realize that his slightly-more-than-normal attachment to his best friend was a crush and that odd feeling in his chest when he looked at movie stars wasn’t just envy but also attraction. He’d harbored that helpless crush on his best friend for several years throughout high school and even the freshman year of college until it had slowly faded. Steve had remained awkward and hopeless throughout that period, telling no one but his mom, because he had always thought he’d never have a chance with Bucky. He always presumed Bucky was straight, because he was always dating girls before his accident and because Steve has never had a reason to presume otherwise. And now, people are telling him that Bucky’s been in love with him for a while.  _ Fuck _ . “Now, what do I do?” he asks, spreading his arms wide open. He feels just as helpless as he did in high school.

Sam shrugs. “You gotta talk to him, man. There’s no other option. You don’t want to lose him over this. Or over anything. It might be awkward, but you guys can figure this out. You always do.”

* * *

“Hey, Stevie!” Bucky’s voice is cheerful and high-pitched as he pulls their apartment door shut behind him. He tucks a loose stray of hair that’s slipped from his scrunchie behind his ear. When he glances up, he stumbles, and his expression grows deathly serious, face paling.

Steve can imagine what it looks to him: Steve seated at their kitchen counter, arms folded atop his sketchbook with his pencil lying askew nearby, fingers fiddling with each other, his own face unnaturally composed. The last time Bucky saw Steve like this was when Steve found out that his mother had finally succumbed to the pneumonia she’d been fighting.

“What happened, Steve?” Bucky asks. His tone sounds terrified. “What’s wrong?”

It’s Steve’s fault that his best friend looks so scared, and in ordinary circumstances, he would never want to be the cause of that dreadful expression on Bucky’s face, but now, he can’t stop wondering if it that softness in Bucky’s eyes when he glances over at Steve has always been there or if he’s only seeing it  _ now  _ because of his knowledge of the truth.

“Steve?” Bucky repeats, a sad undertone flooding his voice.

The silence lingers on longer until Steve can no longer bear it. “I know you’re in love with me.” He says it softly, as if by whispering it, he can will it to be false. His fingers drum against the inside of his wrist and upper inner arm in anticipation.

First, Bucky gapes at him, his eyes wide and round. Then his expression becomes shuttered off. “Who told you?” His voice wavers only once.

Steve sighs internally.  _ Why is that the question everyone keeps asking _ ? “No one did.” He figures that mentioning that it was Peggy will only make things worse, but when Bucky’s expression shifts slightly to become disbelieving, Steve sighs again. “Sam mentioned something to me.”

Bucky bites his lip anxiously, refusing to meet Steve’s gaze. “That bastard,” he murmurs under his breath, and Steve doesn’t know if he’s aware that Steve can still hear him, but he doesn’t say anything else after that.

“Is it true?” Steve asks, quick and urgent before the atmosphere between them can revert back to the terse silence it was before. “Are you in love with me?”

“Yes.” Bucky glances down to the floor. His reply is curt but breathless. “I am.”

“How long?”

“For as long as I can remember.” Bucky hesitates. “Since high school.” He finally glances up at Steve, and their eyes meet, stormy clashing with a fainter blue. He bites down on his lip again, just a tad too hard, and Steve can see the slightest trace of blood on his lower lip.

Then Steve realizes that he’s been staring at his best friend’s lips for a full minute and blushes from head to toe, his skin inflaming. He jerks his attention away and focuses on the fact that Bucky has just revealed that he’s been in love with Steve for nearly as long as Steve had been with him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I was scared,” Bucky admits quietly. “I didn’t even think you liked guys.” He hesitates. “Then you came out in junior year, and it became a real possibility. That scared me even more.” His eyes become sad. “Besides, I was on the football team. They practically demanded heteronormativity. I went on so many first dates with girls in high school but never second dates, because I only really wanted to date you.” He offers a slight smile. “Then when we got to college, I was planning to tell you and ask you out. Then the accident happened.” He grimaces. “And now, you’re dating Peggy.”

Steve gazes at Bucky, horrified. But he’s not horrified at Bucky. He’s horrified at how circumstances cost them something he’d wanted so badly for such a long time until he no longer did: a chance for his friendship with Bucky to be something more. Softly, he asks, “What does that make this?” 

Bucky gapes at him again before blushing brightly. “W-well,” he says, stuttering, “I guess that... that makes me something called demiromantic?” He shrugs. “Nat looked it up with me. It means that I only get romantic feelings for someone when I have a strong emotional connection with them.” He blushes again. “Like you...there’s another version of demiromantic called demisxual, but that’s where you only want to sleep with someone if you have a strong emotional connection with them.” He hesitates. “...But I don’t really like to have sex, especially after the accident, so I guess that makes me asexual?” He shrugs.

“What?” Steve says flatly before realizing that Bucky basically did his equivalent of coming out because Steve forced him to. He rubs the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I mean...fuck, I’m such an asshole.”

“What?” Bucky looks alarmed. “No, you’re not. Everything’s on me. I didn’t tell you.” He shakes his head rapidly. “None of this is your fault.”

“What? No.” Steve frowns. “This is all my fault. I basically forced you to come out.”

“Stop saying  _ what _ ,” Bucky finally says, sighing in frustration. “And you didn’t force me to come out. You just asked a question that I misinterpreted. Besides, it was my choice to tell you, and I had been meaning to for a while, because I just figured it out. Nat helped me. We’ve been researching asexuality for a while. I just didn’t have the right label to describe myself.”

“Alright,” replies Steve, allowing his shoulders to hunch down slightly and eventually relax. Then he returns to his initial question. “What does any of this mean for us? For our friendship?”

Bucky’s gaze falls back to the floor. “It doesn’t mean anything.” His voice is almost a whisper. “You’re dating Peggy. You don’t love me.” He pauses, expression becoming pained. “I’ll just get over it. It’ll take time.”

The truth that Steve had never planned on confessing slips out. “That’s not true. I did love you,” he says before becoming alarmed that he even spoke. “For the longest time. In high school.” He hesitates. “The feelings just went away eventually.”

If he thought that Bucky’s expression was hurt then, it only becomes more raw and pained now, Steve’s heart twinging sympathetically. Bucky takes a step back, and his words are tight and controlled. “I’m sorry.  _ What? _ ” He glances up sharply at Steve and then back towards the door. “I...I need to go,” he says and darts forward to grab his keys before storming out.

“ _ Bucky _ ,” Steve pleads helplessly as the door shuts behind him.

* * *

“What am I supposed to  _ do _ ?” asks Steve, laying on the couch with his head in Peggy’s lap as she combs through his hair. He’s not whining - at least, he doesn’t  _ think  _ he is, but his voice has a desperate and urgent tinge. “I haven’t seen Bucky in a week. He’s not responding to my texts or calls, and he’s been sleeping at Natasha’s.”

Angie, who has given up glancing listlessly at her textbook, hums. “Have you tried contacting your friends?”

Steve shrugs the best he can without shaking off Peggy’s grip. Her fingers are rhythmic and gentle through his hair and could have lulled him to sleep if he weren’t filled with buzzing nervous energy. “I did, but Sam said to give him space. So did Clint. Nat’s just ignoring me. I only know that that’s where Bucky is because Clint told me.”

“I really do think that you should be giving him his space,” Peggy says. “It can’t be easy finding out who you’ve devoted your heart to actually reciprocated your feelings but has now moved on.” She smiles. “You should listen to your friends, darling.”

Once again, the way she pronounces  _ darling  _ gives him butterflies in his stomach despite his anxiety. He’s really gone on Peggy, and that almost makes him feel worse. He sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t not love Bucky... _ he thinks _ . He’s always loved Bucky as a friend and then as something more, but those feelings mostly faded.  _ Mostly _ . He remembers how natural it felt to love Bucky, like breathing, whereas falling in love with Peggy is something different, something new - not that either is better or worse; they’re just as great. It’s likely slowly rising into the world’s greatest sugar high without any of the calories or crashes. She makes him feel giddy and happy while loving Bucky was nothing necessarily different than anything he’d done in love before, nor was being in love with him. Steve thinks of just how  _ easily  _ he thinks he could fall in love with Bucky again - just  _ slip  _ back into those wonderful feelings - if he just  _ tried _ .

He sighs again, meeting Peggy’s warm brown gaze. A shred of doubt flickers in his mind. “Shouldn’t you be jealous or distrusting of Bucky?” he asks, slipping back into the uncertainty when Peggy first told him at the Halloween fair. It almost makes it  _ worse  _ that she’s so supportive.

Peggy stops carding through his hair, and Steve sits up to face her, watching her shrug gracefully. “You cannot choose who your heart chooses to love. An individual can love several people at the same time, either platonically or romantically.”

“Yeah,” Steve grumbles, slipping further down against the back of the couch. “If only you could date several people at the same time. Then all my problems might have been solved.”

Although he doesn’t see it himself, a flicker of interest and cunning sparks in Peggy’s eyes. “Sadly,” she says, “society dictates otherwise.”

“Fuck society,” Angie adds, laughing. She had briefly managed to return her attention to her textbook, but now, she glances back up again. 

“Fuck society,” Peggy echoes, and they all laugh.

* * *

Slowly, a few more days pass and then a week, and while the yearning and desire in Steve’s heart to see Bucky remain, Bucky still slips away from him. He must visit their apartment at very odd hours or when Steve’s away or at class - Bucky memorized Steve’s schedule on the off-chance he’d have to find Steve on campus, because Steve  _ never  _ sees him. Bucky’s like a ghost. Or he must send Natasha to get his stuff.

To distract himself, Steve hangs out at the art studio after his class with Professor Erskine more often and even picks up more shifts at SHIELD until his manager Maria intervenes. “Take tomorrow off,” she orders him as he hangs up his apron around their lockup time late in the evening. “You’ve been here too often. You’re going to overwork yourself. I don’t want to see you tomorrow.”

Her glare is too intimidating for him to argue otherwise. 

Not out of any particular purpose, he finds himself spending more time with Peggy rather than with Sam or his other friends. He’s not mad at them nor are they mad at him. Sam confirms that one rare afternoon they meet for lunch. 

“Hey, man,” he says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “I want you to know that Clint and I aren’t angry at you or anything. We’re not trying to ignore.”

Steve begins to protest. “I didn’t think that at all.”

Sam shakes his head, continuing on. “Everything’s just a bit awkward now, especially between you and Bucky. We just want to give you guys some space while you sort everything out.”

“I’ve been giving  _ Bucky  _ space,” Steve cries, frustration growing. “How are we going to sort anything out if I haven’t seen him in  _ days _ ?”

His friend offers an unhelpful smile. “Just give Bucky a few more days?” Sam asks. “A bit more time.”

Steve rolls his eyes, hoping for the best.

* * *

Several (Bucky-less) days later, Steve, exhausted from his most recent shift at SHIELD, is slumped in a chair at the kitchen table and listlessly working on another sketch for his class with Professor Erskine when there’s a rapid knock at the door. Slowly, he lifts himself from his seat, stretching out his sore limbs - he’s been sitting down for far too long, and shuffles over to unlock the door.

Standing there with a slight smile tugging at her pretty, red-painted lips is Peggy. “Darling,” she greets him as he pulls the door open wider. “Are you busy at this particular moment?” She’s looking polished and stunning in a light cream sweater tucked into a deep burgundy skirt, perfect for shielding herself from the light autumn chill outside. Her hair cascades down from her ponytail in glossy brown curls. 

The longer they’ve been dating, the more he appreciates and adores every single small detail about her.

“Not necessarily,” Steve admits, stepping back. To his surprise, when Peggy nods and steps inside, she’s followed by a sheepish-looking Bucky. Steve’s mouth drops open. “ _ Huh _ ?”

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says, waving awkwardly at him. Despite his weeks-long absence from Steve’s life, he looks well, wearing a long-sleeved grey shirt that Steve always admired on him along with black jeans and his combat boots. He’s also gotten a haircut; the last time Steve saw him, his hair was creeping long enough for him to tie back in a stubby ponytail, but now, it’s styled short in rumpled curls, which is how it used to be in high school. He’s also shaved the scruff he usually allows to accumulate during the colder months, exposing his sharp cheekbones, and Steve’s heart skips a beat.

Presented with the two most beautiful people he knows - stunning Peggy Carter and handsome Bucky Barnes, Steve is suddenly struck speechless, his mouth dry. Swallowing roughly, he manages to gather some courage, rasping out a strained, “Bucky, what are you doing here?”

“We,” Peggy says as she steps further forward into the apartment, Bucky shutting the door behind himself, “are here with a proposition.”

“ _ Huh _ ?” Steve repeats, still dumbfounded. 

“Let’s sit you down,” adds Bucky, gently grasping Steve by the shoulders and steering him to their couch. Steve does, in fact, sit down as Peggy and Bucky drag two kitchen chairs to face him.

Steve feels like he’s about to be interrogated by his parents. Dimly, he wonders, in an irrational part of his mind, what he’s going to get in trouble for.

“A little while ago,” Peggy begins, resting her kind gaze on him, “you voiced the opinion that if you wished you were allowed to date several people at once.” She smiles. “That gave me an idea.” She glances over slowly at Bucky, who looks slightly nervous. “If you care immensely for both Bucky and me, why can’t you date both of us? Why can’t we all be in a relationship together?”

Despite how stunned Steve feels, it takes only mere seconds for him to wrap his mind around Peggy’s suggestion. “Are you saying we should all try dating each other?”

Bucky nods, his nervousness seemingly gone. “Peggy came over, and we talked about it. I think it’s a good idea.” Although his voice is quiet and rough, it is still steady, and Steve wonders how long he ruminated over Peggy’s suggestion. Bucky, usually a flexible person, is very deliberate about important decisions like this one. “If, you know,” he says, and only now is there a slight waver in his voice, “if you still love me.” There is only a shadow of uncertainty in his stormy eyes, yet it makes Steve’s heart hurt. He never wants to see his best friend in pain.

“I most certainly do,” he blurts out without hesitation, answering his own question about whether he still had feelings for Bucky. He guesses they never really went away, because in his heart, he knows that warmth when he glances at Bucky has always been love and adoration. Still, he hesitates a moment. “Hypothetically, how would that even work?”

“Well,” Peggy says, smiling at Bucky, “just like any other relationship.”

“We would just go on dates and do everything that a couple would do,” Bucky says.

“But I thought you said that you only were only attracted to someone if you had an emotional connection with them already?” a still-bewildered Steve asks. 

Bucky nods. “That’s still true, but I don’t need to be attracted to Peggy to know that she’s gorgeous. Besides, we’re already somewhat friends, and if there’s someone else I could imagine falling in love with, it can’t be with a more wonderful person than Peggy.”

She glances over at him, and Steve sees the slight spark of camaraderie between them he had originally noticed when they first met. He can see how they could become even better friends in other circumstances, getting along like a house on fire.

Steve, although warming up to the idea, still has doubts. “What about you, Peggy? Do you really think it would work?” 

She laughs charmingly. “It was my idea, Steve. And I do. I have seen precedence and researched it. Of course, there are precautions that would have to be taken, but I can imagine us all happy together.” She reaches up to tighten her ponytail. “Besides, I would gain two very handsome boyfriends.”

Both Steve and Bucky blush.

Steve has one final question. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asks. “What if it’s a disaster?” 

Bucky smiles at him. “Stevie, we’ve known each other for years. Most of our lives, in fact. I don’t think it’ll fail, especially with Peggy in the picture. We’ll keep things honest and open, and the moment something seems to go wrong, we’ll step back or work on it. It’ll be a regular relationship. That way, we still get to keep our friendships.” Both he and Peggy gaze anticipatingly at Steve. “What do you say?”

He ponders it for a moment. “I guess we could give it a try.”

* * *

They set their first date for a week later, the second Halloween event their college is arranging: the Halloween carnival - actually on Halloween for once, to Steve’s happiness. If the date goes well, they’ll sit down and have an honest talk about how to make this relationship work. But so far, it’s been another few days, and Steve is struggling for a Halloween costume. 

Finally, after much indecision and pondering and running very,  _ very  _ low on time - like literal hours before he has to meet Peggy and Bucky, Steve gives up and decides to be Draco Malfoy. He begs a Slytherin scarf off a haughty Natasha (who has only recently started talking to him again) and pulls out all the black clothing he has. He's really lucky that he brought his Hogwarts robe and his own copy of the Elder Wand - both joint Christmas presents from his mom and the Barnes family one year, Bucky having received his own wand too. Finally, he slicks back his hair with some of Bucky's pomade and examines his reflection in the mirror. 

He looks like a snobbish asshole, and he hates it, but he looks like Draco Malfoy, which was his intention. He has strong feelings about the series and about Malfoy, but he kinda does actually resemble Tom Felton’s portrayal of Malfoy from the movies, and he considers adding this costume to his cosplay repertoire in case he’s gonna attend a fan convention once again in the future. 

Steve hasn’t seen Bucky all day, and he’s supposed to arrive for their date straight after his lab, so twenty minutes before, Steve exits their apartment building and starts walking across campus. He’s five minutes early, but there’s already someone waiting at the bench.

A brown-haired girl. 

It’s Peggy, and when she turns around, Steve gets a good luck at her costume. Black robe, a white blouse and check-print skirt with stockings, oxfords, a striped red-and-gold scarf, and a wand. 

“Bloody hell,” Peggy says when her gaze lands on him, and her eyes widen. Then she laughs. 

“That’s a very Ron thing of you to say, Hermione,” Steve quips. 

“That’s Granger to you, Malfoy,” Peggy retorts, but she’s smiling adorably at him. She tugs at a lock of her hair, which somehow has been styled to appear more voluminous. 

Steve tosses his head back and laughs, the humor taking the edge of the anxiety that’s been gnawing at him for hours now. “I didn’t plan this at all,” he admits. “It was a last-minute idea.” 

“What a coincidence,” Peggy replies. “Either way, you look quite handsome.”

“As do you,” Steve says then falters as Peggy laughs again. “Well, I mean gorgeous. Handsome makes you sound like a thoroughbred horse.” He grimaces, having once again put his foot in his mouth. “Never mind.”

“I’ll take the compliment either way,” says Peggy, her lips shaping into a wry smirk. 

They’ve been standing there and flirting for a few minutes now, and with each creeping second that passes, Steve is beginning to lean more into the ugly doubt that’s whispering that Bucky’s not going to show up, but a few moments later, a dark-haired man strolls up. Steve doesn’t recognize him at first and is taken aback.

His hair is unstyled and made messy, he’s wearing round glasses, and there’s a small lightning bolt drawn in above his eyebrows. He’s wearing all black and is clutching a wand.

It’s Bucky, and he’s dressed as Harry Potter.

As soon as recognition dawns on Bucky’s face, he scowls at them. “What the fuck?” He glances back between Steve and Peggy. “Did you two assholes plan this?” When they both shake their heads, smiling widely, he crosses his arms across his chest, pouting. “And I thought I was being innovative.”

“Nice glasses, Potter,” Steve jokes in an attempt to stay in-character. “Where’d you get them?”

Bucky sticks his tongue out at him. “Bought them at a local costume store.” He pauses. “No, seriously, so no one planned any of this? This is all just a fucking  _ coincidence _ ?” His eyebrows lift in sheer disbelief.

“You know,” Peggy says, tapping her chin thoughtfully with her finger. She points at Steve. “If you were Ron Weasley, we could have been the complete Golden Trio.”

Steve shrugs helplessly. “Can’t help you there. Not a redhead.”

“It’s not too late,” Bucky offers. “We could get Nat.” 

“Eh,” Steve says halfheartedly. “It’s fine. We’re just a Granger, a Malfoy, and a Potter on a date.” 

“Shall we get going?” Peggy suggests, and they begin to shuffle towards the center of campus, where the carnival is based. 

Through the trees, they can begin to hear spooky music. Despite the multiple layers of his costume, the October is beginning to become quite chilly, and Steve shivers, stepping closer to Peggy and Bucky. 

“This is going to be  _ spoooooky _ ,” Bucky quips, waggling his fingers in what he probably thinks is a creepy manner.

Steve nudges him. “Shuddup.” Bucky laughs, knowing how easily spooked Steve can get. It’s why they never did haunted houses in Brooklyn when they were younger. Or scary movies. Or roller coasters. Puking one time on the Cyclone at Coney Island is one time too many. Steve thinks that that memory is seared into his brain. 

As they emerge past the trees and from under the arched gate that marks the beginning of the main plaza, the carnival finally comes into view, and Steve can hear the beginnings of the spooky/Halloweeny pop anthems everyone plays at Halloween parties that are going to be looped in his head until December. 

Everywhere he looks, there are people in colorful costumes, people in face paint or full-body paint, people carrying different props. He’s grateful he met Peggy and Bucky away from the plaza, because it would otherwise be impossible to tell anyone apart in this crowd. 

There’s cobwebs draped over every available surface, and fog machines blowing until the plaza is almost humid and hazy. The activities and rides are fairly standard for any carnival, just decorated to fit more in with the theme. 

Bucky points towards the stage where the costume contest is being held as they pass it, but Peggy shakes her head. “I’d rather not,” she says, instead guiding them towards a little games booth at the edge of the plaza, away from the crowd.

The student manning the booth is tall and broad-shouldered with bright red bushy hair and a matching beard. For some reason, he’s sporting a familiar bowler hat to match his soldier uniform, and Steve immediately recognizes him as Dum Dum Dugan as one of the models from Professor Erskine’s class, but Steve’s not the only person to recognize someone.

“Miss Union Jack,” Dum Dum cries, stepping forward and spreading his arms in a welcoming manner. “Where have you been? It’s been a while.”

Peggy laughs, shaking her head. “I’ve been busy, Dugan.” She turns towards Steve and Bucky. “And these boys are my handsome dates, Steve and Bucky.”

Dum Dum nods towards them, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Steve and Bucky. Any friends of Peg here are friends of mine.” His gaze lands on Steve, and he hesitates, recognition shining in his eyes. “Rogers, right?”

Steve nods in reply, and Bucky eyes Steve curiously. “How do you know Peggy’s friend?”

“Art class,” Steve replies. “He was a model.”

“Oh, yes,” Peggy adds. “I recommended him to Professor Erskine.”

Laughing, Dum Dum turns towards the booth. “Now,” he says, “what game would you like to play?”

There’s a dart throw, a ring toss, a fishing game, and more, but Peggy points toward the balloon-target game. “I think you’ll find that I am a decent shot,” she tells Steve and Bucky, and it’s the closest she’s ever come to bragging.

_ Oh, no _ , Steve thinks. He knows Bucky, and they’ve been to Coney Island countless of times and played similar games.

Dum Dum hands Peggy a plastic rifle, and she steps forward to the firing line before the booth, placing the rifle on her shoulder. She squints into the tracker, seemingly lining her aim before pulling the trigger. 

With a loud pop, the balloon just above the bullseye on the first target bursts, and Peggy smiles slowly, satisfied and cat-like. 

“Damn,” Bucky says. “You are a good shot, Pegs.”

Winking at Bucky would be uncharacteristic for Peggy, but her long lingering look towards Bucky comes close to it. “One shot doesn’t determine all.” Still, she steps forward and in consecutive shots, strikes balloons close to the bullseyes in the next four targets. “I was an archer when I was younger,” she offers as an explanation.

“Great job, Peg,” Dum Dum crows, wrapping an arm around Peggy as she continues smiling. “But I gotta tell you, I can’t give you a prize unless you hit the bullseye on all five targets.”

Peggy’s eyes soften, and her lips twitch slightly. “Tell me that next time, Dum Dum.” She elbows him lightly in the side, and he tosses his head back, laughing clamorously. “Well, I guess we should move on to the next game.”

“Hold up,” Bucky says, stepping forward. “I’d like to take  _ a shot  _ at it.” He grins charmingly, and Steve snorts quietly.  _ Typical Buck _ . “Pun intended.” He shoves a stray lock of messy hair away from his face.

“Well, alright then,” Peggy says, shooting him a curious look. “Let’s see who’s the better shot.”

Bucky slips the fake glasses off and hands them to Steve before taking the rifle that Dum Dum offers him. Just as Steve predicted, he hits the first bullseye dead-on, the balloon bursting with a loud  _ pop _ . 

Dum Dum whistles in surprise while Peggy’s eyes widen by a fraction, but neither says anything. Steve keeps watching in fascination as Bucky’s shots strike the next four balloons straight-on the bullseye. 

By the end, Peggy’s eyebrows have lifted considerably. “I can see now that you’re the better shot,” she says as Bucky hands the rifle back over to Dum Dum.

Bucky shrugs. “Dad was an Army brat. He would take me and my sister to a shooting range sometimes on the weekends and teach us.”

Steve remembers those days. He would go occasionally, and George Barnes would walk Steve through the motions of loading and firing the rifle like he did for Bucky and Becca, treating him as his own child. Not that it helped Steve develop any kind of aim or anything. He still can’t even throw a football with accurate aim.

Dum Dum claps his hands together triumphantly. “Bravo.” He turns back towards the booth briefly before handing Bucky a fistful of bright orange paper slips. “Here are your tickets. You can redeem them for prizes at the booth on the other side of the plaza.” He passes a handful to Peggy too, though her slips are noticeably less in number. “Consider this a participation prize, Miss Union Jack,” he jokes.

Peggy rolls her eyes. ‘“I appreciate it, Dum Dum.” She casts one last lingering look towards Bucky’s tickets, but she smiles nonetheless. “Shall we go?”

They all turn to leave, but as they do, Steve’s eyes catch on one game in specific. “Wait,” he cries. “Can I try the ring toss?” He’s always been quite decent at them when he and Bucky play carnival games. The ring tosses and, weirdly enough, frisbee throws.

“Really, Steve?” Bucky asks, snorting.

With Peggy watching curiously, Steve steps up to the thickly-painted black line before the booth and stands in a ready stance, shoulders twisted with his hand poised to toss the plastic ring he’s holding. He flicks his wrist and throws the ring, watching it sail towards the multiple narrow-necked glass bottles lining the booth. It land successful around the neck of a bottle close to the back, scoring him a decent amount of tickets. Dum Dum laughs and hands him the next ring.

The next four rings land similarly far, and it’s not long before Dum Dum forks over their new tickets, Bucky stuffing all of them in the pocket of his robes along with the fake glasses he’s recovered from Steve. 

“You guys are weirdly good at carnival games,” Dum Dum says as he sets up the bottles that Steve’s knocked over again. 

Bucky shrugs. “We grew up in Brooklyn. We spent a lot of time going to Coney Island.”

Dum Dum nods. “That’s cool. I grew up in the Midwest, and my town would have annual fairs and carnivals every few months.”

Steve can’t even imagine that. 

“Anyways,” Dum Dum continues, “you guys have been great, but I’d implore you to move on to the other activities. You’re basically getting free tickets at this point.”

“Acknowledged,” Peggy says, laughing. “We don’t want to rob you blind, Dum Dum.”

They shuffle away slowly, still giggling and carefully counting the tickets that Bucky keeps pulling out. 

“I hope they have good prizes,” Steve says, “because we have  _ a lot _ .” Steve’s stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly, and he glances down in betrayal. He’d eaten several hours ago, but he guesses that all the stress of choosing his costume - plus the actual homework he had - caused his body to burn through the food rather quickly. “Anyone else hungry?” he asks.

“Actually,” Bucky says suddenly. “Yeah, I am. I haven’t eaten since breakfast this morning.”

“I think there are some booths selling food over there,” Peggy announces, pointing ahead in the crowd. She takes the lead, carving a path through the people milling about, Steve and Bucky following in her midst. She carries herself like every bit of the queen that she likely was in a past life.

Ten minutes later, with slightly overpriced and over-salted pretzels in their hands, they settle down on a bench at the edge of the crowd. The gnawing hunger in Steve’s stomach begins to calm as the pretzel disappears quickly in his hands.

He wipes his hands with a spare tissue and balls it up with the paper wrapper from his pretzel and disappears into the crowd to toss them into the compost bin. When he returns, Peggy has finished her pretzel, and Bucky is nearly done polishing his own off. They’re quietly sharing a conversation that quiets up as Steve approaches, and he distantly wonders what they’re discussing.

“Now, what should we do?” Bucky asks, springing up. His hair is in a general disarray, even beyond how he’d originally styled it as Harry Potter, and he’s abandoned the glasses and the wand, both in his pocket with the tickets. The lightning bolt he’s painted on has become slightly smudged, and there’s crumbs from the pretzel around his mouth that he quickly brushes away when he notices Steve staring at his chin. “What?”

Steve hides his laughter; for the first time, he feels the warm butterflies in his stomach returning, a giddiness that he last felt when he first asked Peggy out or all the time in high school around Bucky. He fights the large smile that threatens to split his features.

“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel,” Peggy says, also standing and straightening her costume out. 

Steve glances towards the large ride, set in the middle of the plaza, that casts a colorful glow across the campus as it spins across the dark sky. “Why not?”

As they set across the plaza, they also grab goblets of “blood,” handed to them by a smiling student costumed as Dracula or some other cartoony vampire. Really, it’s just tropical fruit punch - or something similar - with chocolate syrup and dyed red; it’s not half-bad if Steve manages to ignore the artificial taste of sugar at the back of his throat. 

Bucky coughs a few times, grimacing, before finally tossing his into a nearby trash can. “No, thanks,” he says when Peggy jokingly offers him more. He buys an expensive bottle of water just to clear the taste from his mouth, or so he says. “It’s a good thing that this fair was also advertised as a fundraiser, because it’s not really friendly to the thinning wallets of college students.”

They arrives at the Ferris wheel and enter the fairly long line, waiting about twenty minutes. Based on the size of the seats, Steve is beginning to doubt that they’ll all be allowed to go on the ride together, but to his surprise, the seats are much bigger up front. Although it’s a tight squeeze, they all fit.

As the wheel begins to rotate and they rise in the air, Peggy carefully leans forward to take in the growing view of the plaza and of their campus. She inhales sharply. “It’s quiet beautiful,” she says above the cheery music of the ride. 

Steve nods quietly, nestled between her and Peggy. Being higher in the air really allows them to take in the patches of forest and historic brick buildings of their campus. It has an almost mystical, fantastical vibe. From his perch, Steve can spot the little bench besides the creek that he loves to sketch by. He can also hear Bucky humming unconsciously to the music, barely audible over the thundering of his heart and the shrieks of the crowd drifting up to him.

Eventually, the slow rise of their seat through the air comes to a stop, and they hover above the crowd and their campus.

With both of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen on either side of him and the air still around him, he feels calm, at peace. This would be the perfect romantic setting to kiss someone, but of course, Steve’s anxious mind causes him to second-guess that idea.  _ Who would he kiss first _ ? Peggy? Because they were already dating? But that would isolate Bucky, and Steve would give every bone in his body to never hurt Bucky again. But if he kissed Bucky first, that would leave Peggy out. There’s way too much all at stake here.

When the Ferris wheel resumes its spin and the three of them return to the ground, everyone remains unkissed. Steve blames himself.

“Well, wasn’t that lovely?” Peggy asks, hair windblown and eyes sparkling, only further enchanting Steve. Her costume is all in disarray, but she doesn’t seem to care. 

Nor does Bucky who has mostly abandoned his. “Yes, it was,” Bucky replies cheerfully, rolling his left shoulder to likely alleviate some tension from his prosthetic. “Now, where else should we-” His question is abruptly cut off by a yawn escaping his mouth; immediately, he clamps a metallic hand down over his mouth, cheeks flaming, as Peggy giggles. When he drops his hand, he smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Clearly, lab took more out of me than I expected.”

“Nonsense,” Peggy says. “We’ve been here for quite some time, and the fair is nearly over. Should we trek back?”

Steve is about to nod when he remembers. “The tickets,” he blurts out. “We didn’t spend so much effort on winning them to not exchange them for anything.”

Bucky nods sagely, withdrawing their total from his pockets. “Steve has a point. We do have a lot.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “We could give them to a kid or something. That’s what we used to do sometimes at Coney Island when we got older.”

Peggy sighs. “That’s a wonderful idea, Bucky, but I believe that it’s too late. Most parents have taken their children home, and it’ll look awfully suspicious if we walk around campus looking for a kid.”

“Oh.” Bucky slumps forward. “I guess we gotta spend it.”

They walk towards the prize booth, conveniently located - at least for visitors - by one of the fair’s few exits. It’s a bit small with rows of shelves stripped of their prizes, and Bucky hands their tickets to the tired student in the pretty floral hijab whose name tag reads Kamala. “What can we get for these many tickets?” he asks.

Kamala blinks. “Well,” she replies, “most of the bigger prizes are gone, so you’ll only be able to get a few smaller prizes for the total number of tickets that you have.” She points to a few examples: a plastic bow and arrow set, a pack of shiny playing cards, a funny-looking beret, pizza coupons that Clint would really appreciate, etc. Nothing really seems to catch their eyes until Kamala shows them a small teddy bear wearing a bright orange shirt with SHIELD’s eagle logo in white. “It’s a Halloween-themed bear,” she explains with a bit of a wry smile.

It really is a cute teddy bear, and Steve can see Bucky - who has a bit of a serious stuffed bear collection at home in Brooklyn that he left for Becca - smile slightly, eyes widening. Apparently, even Peggy notices, because she steps forward and says, “We’ll take three.”

As they walk away from the fair and in the direction of Steve and Bucky’s apartment, happily clutching their individual bears, Steve squeezes his gently. “This was really fun,” he says quietly.

“It was,” Bucky agrees. He still has that slight smile on his face, his bear riding in the pocket of his robes where the tickets had previously been stashed.

Peggy absentmindedly strokes the fuzzy head of her own teddy bear, scratching between the ears as one would do to a dog or cat. “I believe that today was actually the most fun I’ve ever had on a date,” she says, eyes flickering towards. “Pardon me, Steve, but that also includes our own first date.”

Steve sees the first shred of doubt appear in Bucky’s otherwise certain expression. “Is this going to work then?” he asks nervously.

Peggy steps forward and ducks her head to press a kiss to his cheeks as he blushes. “I think this is going to be wonderful.” She turns toward Steve and presses her warm hand to his cheek, cupping his face as she kisses him gently.

“Bucky,” Steve say quietly, heart hammering in his chest. He steps closer to his best friend and rises on his tiptoes to brush a short kiss across Bucky’s lips. “Will you do me the honor of being our boyfriend?”

Smiling, Bucky nods before bending his neck to sweep Steve forward. He ducks his head and captures Steve’s lips in a spine-tingling kiss that feels worthy of a romance novel. He finally releases Steve, his heart still pounding, before stepping back and sliding his hand into Peggy’s grasp. On her other side, Steve takes up her other hand. Peggy lifts her head, grinning, and hand-in-hand, they continue walking towards the apartment building.

_ This is going to work very well _ , Steve thinks.

* * *

Six years, three apartments, and one wedding later, he’s happy to know that he’s right.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik) to let me know how much you liked this fic or request a prompt.


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